Failure
by AzureSkye23
Summary: At the end of the Third Age, Melkor gets some company in the Void. Not my usual take on these two, and not connected to anything else I've written. Now continued with the Dagor Dagorath.
1. Company in the Void

Melkor was used to the long emptiness of the Void, but that did not mean it was any easier to bear. He had explored it long, after all, in the time before Time, when he had searched fruitlessly for the Flame Imperishable.

But now, there was a change. Doors that had long been sealed shut opened–just briefly–not long enough for him to even react, to attempt to escape. Not that he believed he could yet prevail against his brethren; he knew he had not yet fully recovered his full strength.

He went to investigate just why the Doors had been opened, and found the tattered remnants of a golden soul. If he still had a corporeal body, his breath would have caught as he recognized it. It was reeling, parts of it missing, as it fought to recover enough to return to self awareness. Melkor knew what that felt like.

He gently gathered the soul into an embrace. While he was accustom to the nothingness of the Void, and had been before his exile here, this maia certainly wasn't. He could remember the disorientation the Void had caused when he had first been thrust here, trying to recover from his humiliating defeat. His presence would afford his little maia some stability during his recovery.

Melkor had never been particularly patient, but there was nothing else to do in the Void but wait. Slowly, the maia in his arms healed, until finally he blinked up at the Vala and recognized him.

_I tried,_ Mairon said quietly to the lord he had never ceased to follow. Melkor gently ran a hand down the side of his face.

_I know,_ he replied.

* * *

**Not my usual take on these two *at all* but this bunny would not be denied. **


	2. The End of all Things

**Definite BYOT warning.**

* * *

It was over. Melkor was on his knees, Túrin before him with the reforged Gurthang in his hands. One thrust, and Dagor Dagorath would be over, the forces of Light triumphant.

_So why does it not feel like a victory?_ Manwë wondered from his place beside and slightly behind Túrin. Perhaps it was his exhaustion, or maybe it was the fact that despite all that Melkor had done, there was a part of the Elder King that still mourned what his brother had become. At least this was the last time, Manwë consoled himself. The last time he would have to endure this soul-deep ache of facing his brother in battle.

_In Arda Marred, Justice is not Healing._ Manwë reminded himself. He knew what justice demanded, and it must be so. Melkor had been given chances to redeem himself, and had squandered them all. Túrin was merely waiting for Manwë's order.

He was about to give it, when a black blur shot from their right, quickly resolving into the Maia who had followed Melkor so faithfully. Melkor shifted slightly to accommodate Mairon's weight, wrapping his arms around his lieutenant, who was desperately clinging to the Vala, and…shaking? Yes, Manwë could see him trembling. Mairon was clearly terrified, from the way he held himself to the way he buried his head in his lord's chest.

Beside him, Túrin paused, Gurthang's tip dropping as he took in the scene, pity clearly written on his face. There was something heartbreaking about the frightened Maia who had instinctively sought safety in his lord's arms, despite there being none to be found there.

Manwë watched, feeling the wounds in his soul rip a little deeper as Melkor dropped his head to whisper something into Mairon's ear before pulling back, one hand rising to cradle the back of the Maia's head as Melkor pressed a kiss to his hair.

"We have played our part faithfully," the fallen Vala said in a soft voice. "But the ending is hard to face."

"Melkor…" Manwë began, unsure of what he could even say.

"There had to be opposition," Melkor went on, almost as if he hadn't heard his brother. "So that is what we were. But now the time has come for Arda to be healed…and so that opposition must end. And so must we." At that, Manwë moved forward, kneeling as well so he was knee to knee with Melkor.

"You could have come back," the Elder King said softly. Melkor looked up at that, reaching out with his right hand, keeping his left securely wrapped around Mairon.

"Not without betraying who and what I was," he said softly, stroking down the side of his little brother's face. Manwë dropped his head, fighting tears at the first gentle touch his brother had given him since before Eä began. Melkor's face contorted with sadness, though Manwë didn't see it. The next thing Manwë knew, Melkor had wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his embrace. Manwë clung to his brother almost as desperately as Mairon had done, feeling his heart simultaneously shatter and heal as Melkor kissed his hair, and feeling the strong, desperate grip between his shoulder blades.

_Oh Atar, why does it have to be this way?_ Manwë silently cried out.

"I love you, little brother," Melkor whispered. "So much." Then the grip shifted to Manwë''s shoulder, pushing him back until Melkor could stare into his eyes.

"Now get up, Mânawenûz, and finish this," Melkor whispered firmly. Manwë closed his eyes and stood, feeling his brother's hand drop away. Gritting his teeth, he looked at Túrin and nodded. Gurthang rose again, and with a single thrust, it did what it had been forged to do, and ended the immortal lives of both Vala and Maia. Manwë closed his eyes again against tears as he heard their fánar lifelessly hit the ground.

It was over. They had won.

* * *

**Mânawenûz is Manwë's Valarin name, in fact 'manwë' is simply an eldarin adaption of it. **


End file.
